They could no longer stay in one place. Wood carved the ducks; Mr. Gold-handled, too. She looked away. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again.
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